


Ash

by DaScribbla



Series: Spiral [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Guilt, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Relationship, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 12:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14472750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaScribbla/pseuds/DaScribbla
Summary: “I’m sorry,” he said, and Tony wondered what Peter Parker ever had to be sorry for.A continuation of "And So We Spiral."





	Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I proofread and generally revise more before I post, but I just saw Infinity War and, um, what the fuck.

> _ “Yet each man kills the thing he loves _
> 
> _ By each let this be heard, _
> 
> _ Some do it with a bitter look, _
> 
> _ Some with a flattering word, _
> 
> _ The coward does it with a kiss, _
> 
> _ The brave man with a sword!” _
> 
> Oscar Wilde

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Tony wondered what Peter Parker ever had to be sorry for. He was apologizing for coming onboard the ship even though Tony had given him an out—that was it. Constantly the rebel, constantly the rule-breaker. They had rules of their own that he broke constantly. 

* * *

Light streamed through the kitchen window and made Peter’s hair glow as he leaned his head against the back of Tony’s shoulder, humming while eggs sizzled in the pan on the stove. His hips drove against his ass; teeth scraped the back of his neck.

“If anyone comes in here,” Tony whispered, “we’re toast.”

“Not what you said last night.”

“If you’ll care to look a little before I made you forget your own name—”

“I did not—”

“—I think you’ll remember that I actually did say that,” Tony finished. “And also what else am I supposed to call all that word vomit.”

“What word vomit,” Peter kissed the skin behind his left ear. Tony moved the eggs off the burner, turned off the stove, and turned to face him. 

“‘Oh, Tony…’” He kept his voice just loud enough that Peter could hear, a breathy, over-exaggerated impression of Peter about to peak. “‘Tony, you’re going to kill me if you keep—oh—oh—yes—don’t stop—don’t—ohh—‘”

“Anyone who hears you is gonna think you yell your own name in bed.” But he was turning red. 

“Who’s to say that I don’t?”

“Me, asshole.”

Tony grinned and bent down to kiss him just as footsteps sounded outside the kitchen. By the time Sam stepped inside, Peter was across the room taking the orange juice out of the fridge. 

“Pour me one, would you?” Tony said. 

“Those eggs?” asked Sam. He was wearing a T-shirt and gym shorts and, judging by the sheen of sweat on his face, had just gone for a run. “Scramble me some, will you?”

Peter handed Tony his juice, and their fingers brushed for a moment too long. The touch hung against Tony’s skin long after Peter had jerked his hand away again.

“Earth to Stark,” said Sam. “Come in, Stark, or I’ll eat those myself.”

 

Rule One: Don’t touch him. No hands on shoulders, certainly no hands in hands.

 

Two: Don’t look at him.

Well, okay, fine, look at him, don’t be fucking weird, but don’t linger, and certainly don’t eyefuck him while he’s doing pull-ups in the gym. To the others, you have no more ownership over his body than you do the kitchen coffee machine. Tony deserved an Oscar for how much time he didn’t spend watching Peter work out, work in the lab, help with dinner, even just stretch as he got up from the sofa. 

Peter was much worse at it. The last night he’d stayed over, Tony mixed cocktails for dinner, and Peter had sat at the kitchen island and unabashedly watched him do it, eyes starry. He was six months to eighteen, then, but so much of his mannerisms were still so young.

It made Tony sick if he thought too hard about it.

Steve was on dinner duty that night; he was making spaghetti and called Peter up to boil the pasta, and Tony wondered if it wasn’t because Steve knew goddamn well what was up and wanted to save the kid any embarrassment. 

* * *

Tony stroked his hair from his face.

Maybe he was apologizing because he knew that he was so damn bad at keeping his eyes in his head and just keeping cool in general. The rules were instinctive and a matter of survival, and yet still Peter couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep his hands to himself, couldn’t stop himself from loving him so hungrily, so desperately. Maybe the love was what he was sorry for.

* * *

“What’re you doing?” Peter had woken to Tony kissing his neck, body curled around his from behind. His voice was indistinct with sleep, his eyes barely open. He craned his neck around to look at him.

“What’s it look like?” He pressed his lips further along the vein on the side of his throat. With a hum, Peter nestled even closer against Tony’s chest, pulled one of his arms around himself. It was three AM, and the sheets were warm. Rain rattled on the windows. 

“Got any plans for tomorrow, or can you stay over longer?” Tony mumbled into his hair.

“Told May I was sleeping at a friend’s. Gotta be back before she gets worried.”

He rolled over and kissed Tony’s bare shoulder.

 

Three: Sleep over only once a week, twice if you desperately have to. 

* * *

If anyone should be apologizing, Tony thought, rage blazing behind his eyes, it should be me.

* * *

“Fuck—please—please—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

Tony opened his eyes a little too late to find Peter thrashing beside him. 

“Hey, hey…” He put his hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t wake. His eyes were screwed shut, trapping him in whatever nightmare his brain had decided to serve up. “Peter,” he hissed. “Peter, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. I need you to wake up right now,” he continued as his cries grew louder, “because if people come in here I don’t know how I’m going to explain why I’m already here.”

Still asleep, Peter thrashed to the left, near the edge of his bed, and _wailed._ Hissing a curse, Tony threw himself across him and clapped his hand over his mouth.

Peter’s eyes flew open, and he froze for a moment before he realized it was Tony pinning him there. Then he went limp. 

“Hey,” Tony whispered. “Hey, you’re okay. Right here. It’s me. Hi.”

He tucked him in more securely, an arm around him, letting him huddle close. He was shaking. 

“Think they heard?” he whispered at last.

Tony shrugged. “I should go back to my room.”

“No—no—!” He wrapped his hand around his wrist. 

“Baby, if they find me in here with the door closed and no clothes on, we’re going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

“Don’t go.” 

Peter watched Tony put his clothes back on from the bed. The blanket was bunched in his fists. “Tony, _please.”_

“I know.” Dressed again, he returned to the bed, cupped Peter’s face, and kissed his forehead. He was still shaking. “I know. If you have another nightmare—”

“—will you come?” he asked. “If you hear me, will you come back?”

He stroked his temple with his thumb. “I wish I could risk it.”

Peter slumped back against the pillows. “I hate this.”

 

Four: Never, ever, ever let your guard down. 

* * *

 Maybe when he said “I’m sorry,” what he really meant was that he was sorry for the shame. Perhaps, in the end, it was about putting Tony in this bind where he could have him but only for the briefest moments, for killing his reputation completely, for making it so that he lived every day with hands shaking with the effort of not reaching out to touch him. Maybe he was apologizing for the rules and the whole fucking charade of not caring whether or not the other dropped off the face of the earth. Maybe he was apologizing so that Tony would remember all the rules, and then remember that they weren’t even on the same planet anymore, and then he would realize that it didn’t matter if anyone saw them because wasn’t the world was ending anyway, so hadn’t Tony better just hold him and let the rest of it all turn to dust? Rules didn’t matter on a distant planet when there was no one to see the two of them or to care.

It’s my fault, Tony thought. Don’t you see that this is all my fault?

He bent down to kiss him, but he was already ash in his hands. 


End file.
